


The Will and The Way

by larrymylove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:01:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3958552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larrymylove/pseuds/larrymylove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Louis Tomlinsons' grandmother wills him her country home in France, Louis thinks it'll be easy. He'll go to France, renovate the place, sell it to the highest bidder, and be done with it. But little does he know that his grandmother had other plans in mind. Other plans like also leaving the house to her companion, Harry Styles - who is just as determined as Louis not to give up his share of the home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have so many updates to work on but I am completely stuck. And this idea has been itching around in my brain for awhile now so I decided to work on it. Don't worry, if you read my other works I will still be updating those regularly as well. I just needed to take a little break from those for awhile. But don't worry, I'll update those others either today or definitely tomorrow.
> 
> This idea is loosely based on the movie My Old Lady. I really hope you enjoy it!

Louis Tomlinson sighed and glanced around the loft he shared with his best friend in the entire world, Zayn Malik. “Try - _try_ \- not to let this place completely go to shit while I’m away,” Louis begged.

“I’ll take good care of it,” Zayn lifted Louis’ suitcase and handed it to him, “Sure you don’t want me to come with you? This can’t be easy.”

Louis lifted an apathetic shoulder, “What about it would be hard? I didn’t even know the lady. And I’m getting a house in France! Everything about this is easy!”

Zayn looked as though he was going to say something, but thought better of it instead. Louis gave the loft one last look-over before pulling Zayn into a hug. “It won’t be long,” he said, “A few weeks, tops. Just gotta go meet with the lawyers, get the keys, fix the place up, and sell it to the highest bidder.”

Like Louis really needed any more money. But he wasn’t going to turn down the chance for more. He gave Zayn a small kiss on the cheek before hurrying out to meet his taxi. He didn’t know why Zayn would think any of this would be hard. Louis hadn’t even known his grandmother except through stories he’d heard from his mother - when she wasn’t too busy to tell them to him. Apparently she was very old and very eccentric and not in the best mental state. When Louis had gotten the call from the lawyers telling him that Madeline Beaumont had passed away, his first thought had been - _who?_

The lawyer explained to him that in her final will and testament, she’d left Louis her country home in France. That it needed repairs, but overall it was in good condition. And that Louis needed to make the trip as soon as possible to get everything in order. Louis hadn’t minded any of it. He was inheriting a house from a woman he didn’t even know. A house which he could fix up a bit and sell. And if he’d inherited anything from his mother and father, it was the desire for money. Besides, what else better did he have to do? He didn’t work - thanks to a hefty trust in his name that always seemed to cover anything and everything he ever needed or wanted. It would be fun to take a few weeks away from London. It’d be a little vacation.

When he got to France, he hailed a driver to take him to the address he’d written down on a slip of paper. That afternoon, after he’d gotten semi-settled into the home, the lawyer - a Mr. Chevalier - would be stopping by to review all the legalities. During the drive, Louis looked out at the countryside. It was certainly...rustic. He started to wonder if maybe he’d made a mistake in not inviting Zayn along. But if there was one thing Louis was used to in his life, it was loneliness. Besides, it wouldn’t be so bad. He had his cellphone and his laptop. And he’d be busy getting the house prepared to sell. He wouldn’t allow himself the time to be lonely.

The driver continued down a dirt path and Louis was looking skeptical. Dirt roads were never a good sign. He stared down at his new crocodile Prada shoes. No, dirt roads were definitely not a good sign. Maybe Zayn had been a dear and had slipped a pair of trainers into Louis’ suitcase. Knowing better than Louis did that he’d want them. Louis nibbled on his thumb nail as the driver pulled up to another little dirt road. Above the road hung an iron sign, “Beaumont Manor.’ The sign was crooked and looked as though it’d fall down at the slightest breeze. Louis pinched the bridge of his nose. Okay. This was going to be interesting.

The driver continued down the little dirt path and when Louis saw the house, his jaw fell lax. The sign had been just the beginning. The house looked as though it were in shambles. Okay, maybe it wasn’t really that bad, but compared to Louis’ brownstone loft back in London, it was pretty awful. It was a two story red brick thing with boarded up windows and rusted nails sticking out from the boards. Some of the shrubbery looked horribly in need of a good trim. But Louis noticed several small flower beds that appeared freshly planted.

“You sure this is the place, sir?” The driver asked. Louis glanced at the address on the paper, then at the address on the side of home in metal numbers. Yeah, this was the place alright. He couldn’t exactly imagine any one of any relation to him living in such a place.

“Yeah, yeah I think so,” Louis paid the driver, thanked him, and gathered up his bag. The lawyer had told Louis there’d be a key under the door mat. Louis wandered over to the front door. The little cement stoop was quite dusty, and Louis frowned down at his Prada shoes as if apologizing to them. He was about to lift up the mat when he noticed a small vegetable garden off to the side of the property. Which was odd. It looked like that, and the freshly planted flowers, were the only things that’d been kept up with around the home.

Louis hadn’t remembered anyone telling him about a gardener or a groundskeeper. Or anyone really. As far as he’d known, Madeline Beaumont had lived here entirely alone after Louis’ grandfather had passed away. And that had happened long before Louis had come into the picture. He reached under the mat and lifted out a dusty brass key. He turned it into the lock and the heavy wooden door swung open.

The house hardly looked like the same house from the inside. Inside, everything was kept up and warm and cozy. There was no dust. It smelled of vanilla and cinnamon sugar. There was a fire going in a heavy stone fire place. Louis glanced around. Someone was definitely here. Perhaps Mr. Chevalier had come early? Louis’ brows knitted together. This was certainly odd.

Apprehensively, Louis decided to take a look around. But not before grabbing an iron poker from next to the fire place. Wielding it like a weapon, he carefully ducked in and out of each room on the lower level. Each room was just as clean and cozy as the last. There was even a kettle of tea on the stove in the kitchen, which sparked Louis’ interest. He definitely knew he was not alone. Perhaps he should have asked the driver to stick around awhile.

The only parts left to explore were the upstairs. And as Louis approached the staircase, still brandishing the poker, he heard a loud thud. Stay calm, Louis told himself. It’s probably nothing. Surely it’s nothing. No need to let his imagination run wild. Then another loud bang followed this time by a “Fuck!” Okay. Screw staying calm. Louis brandished the fire poker higher and ran up the stairs.

Each corner he took, he swung the fire poker. He was sure he looked like an insane person, but he really didn’t care at this point. His heart was pounding like crazy in his chest as he turned into the master bedroom. The fire poker was raised firmly above his head.

“Jesus Christ!” A boy with brown curls and who was at least several heads taller than Louis was standing there. He sucked his lips under his teeth, his eyes were wide and his brows were raised. Louis considered jabbing him with the poker and demanding answers, but god his eyes were _so_ green. And then the boy started laughing. Actually f _ucking laughing._ What the hell? Louis lowered the poker, aiming the tip right at the boy’s chest. Man. Man-boy. Boy-man? Louis’ brows furrowed.

“Who are you?” Louis demanded, “And why are you in my house?”

“You must be Louis,” the boy sighed, his eyes still twinkling from laughing, “Nice to finally meet you. Care to put down your uh...poker?”

“Not until you tell me who you are, how you know me, and why you’re in my house,” Louis shoved the poker closer. The tip was now lightly pressing against the boy’s chest. Louis’ eyes narrowed in on him. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, but he knew he needed answers.

“Okay, okay,” the boy was smiling now and for fuck’s sake, he had dimples. Louis was now convinced the universe hated him, “My name is Harry Styles. I live here.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes...I do.”

“No. You want to know why you don’t live here, Harry Styles?” Louis asked, his voice cool and slick as he said Harry’s name, “You don’t live here because _I_ live here. My grandmother left me this house in her will. And if you have any objections to that, the lawyer will be by in a bit.”

Harry sighed, gripping the poker in his hands and lowering it himself. Louis was surprised by his strength, and that only made him madder. Harry smiled warmly and said, “I live here because your grandmother told me I could. It’s already in the will. You’ll see when the lawyer gets here.”

Louis raised the poker back up, jabbing it a bit more forcefully against Harry, “What are you talking about, Styles?”

Harry rolled his eyes as if this was a huge inconvenience for him. And again, he lowered the poker, “I was a friend of Madeline’s. I traveled a lot a few years ago. Didn’t really have a home. Was bit of a gypsy in that sense. I just traveled around, visiting different places. When I came here, I liked it. But I had no where to stay and was running low on funds. Madeline took me in.”

“ _Of course_ she did,” Louis hissed. His mom always did say Madeline was a loon. “You could have been a serial killer or something,” Louis’ eyes narrowed in on Harry, “Are you a serial killer?”

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes again, “She let me stay here. In exchange for my company. And I helped her out around here as best I could. When she started to take a turn for the worst, she changed her will.”

“Fucking beautiful,” Louis scoffed, tossing the poker to the ground.

“She left you the house, yes. But as you’ll see when Mr. Chevalier arrives, you are not the sole owner of the house. We share it. Fifty-fifty.”

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” Louis laughed dryly, “God. My mom always did tell me Maddie was an absolute loon. She probably wasn’t even in her right mind when she changed her will. I will talk to the lawyer. I’ll get it sorted. And then _you_ ,” Louis glared right at Harry, “will be on your way.”

“We’ll see,” Harry just smiled, turning back around and making his way into the small bathroom. Louis didn’t really know why, but he followed him.

“What were you doing up here anyway?” He asked, “Do you always bang around like some sort of troll?”

Harry smiled again, but this time his smile was a little tighter and a little more forced, “Sometimes I can be clumsy. Comes with the long legs. Something I take it you’d know nothing about.”

Louis took a step back, completely offended. Who did this Harry Styles think he was anyway? Louis could hardly wait for Chevalier to arrive and sort this whole mess out. Harry would be off on his way in no time. All Louis had to do was manage until then. He glanced around the tiny bath. There was a small marble shower, a toilet hidden behind two wooden swinging doors, and a copper sink. Louis’ eyes fell back to the marble shower. A hot shower sounded lovely right now. But then his eyes snapped back over to Harry who was currently rubbing lotion into his hands.

“Are you still here?” Harry glanced up, catching Louis’ gaze in the reflection of the mirror.

“This is my house. Where would I have gone?”

Harry just smiled again, putting the cap back on the lotion. He pushed past Louis back out to the bedroom and began to unbutton his shirt. Louis watched, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. He tried not to let his jaw fall lax. But he couldn’t help but wet his lips as he watched Harry. He had a fucking six pack. He was absolutely ripped. And Louis felt slightly light-headed. How was Harry Styles even real? People weren’t supposed to have beautiful smiles, dimples, and six packs all at once.

“You just going to stand there?” Harry asked, putting on a different shirt he’d pulled from a wardrobe.

“You’ve completely taken over the master bedroom.”

“Madeline preferred the guest room down the hall. She liked the view better. So she let me have the master bedroom. I’m not moving out though. I’m settled in this room. All my things are here and I have a view of my garden. You can take the guest room across the hall.”

Louis’ jaw fell lax then, “Excuse me?”

“Well considering we’re both going to be living here.”

“We’re not _both_ going to be living here, Styles,” Louis folded his arms coolly over his chest, “I am going to renovate this place and sell it for the highest price possible. And then I will move back to London and you will be on your way.”

“You really don’t know, do you?” Harry asked, buttoning his shirt.

“Know what?” Louis’ eyes narrowed again.

“Oh, I’ll let Chevalier explain it all when he gets here. Which will be soon. He rung not long ago to tell me he’s on his way.”

“You know him?” Louis felt his head spin. None of this was happening. This was all just a horribly bad dream.

“Of course. He was very good friends with Madeline. He and I were really the only two people Madeline trusted in the whole world,” Harry suddenly looked to Louis with a sad look in his eyes, “Shame really. That you never let yourself get to know her.”

Louis felt his blood bubble and turn to soda within his veins. How dare Harry make assumptions about him! “You don’t know me,” he snapped, “And no matter what you think, you didn’t know her. She’s my family. My mom told me all the time what a bloody loon the old bat was! No wonder you think the two of you got off so well. Both of you bloody mad!”

Harry just smiled that tight smile again, “Sure, Lou. I’m going to put the kettle back on the stove to heat before Chevalier arrives. Do you have a bag? Put your things in the bedroom across the hall. The sheets on the bed are fresh. And I’ve even put a pitcher of water in there for you in case you’re thirsty from traveling.”

Louis’ face heated. Who did this Harry Styles think he was anyway?

“I’ll fetch you when Chevalier arrives,” Harry smiled again, slipping out of the bedroom and heading down the stairs. Louis followed briefly, pausing at the top of the steps. He gripped the balcony bannister in his hands until his knuckles turned white with rage.

\--

Louis found himself sitting at the heavy wooden table in the kitchen, with Harry on one side of him and Mr. Chevalier on the other. Mr. Chevalier was a heavyset man with a broad mustache who smelled deeply of pipe tobacco. As he had searched through his briefcase for the proper papers, Harry and fixed them all tea. Louis had been sure to push his cup and saucer far away, untouched. He knew he was being rude. But quite frankly, he had no reason to be anything but to this Harry Styles. This Harry Styles who had moved in with his grandmother and who was now insisting that he live there too. Louis didn’t even want to think too hard about what Harry’s relationship with his grandmother had been. It made his blood boil.

Mr. Chevalier withdrew a thick folder and sorted through some papers before finally finding the one he was looking for, “Alright. I will now read to you Madeline Beaumont’s last will and testament prior to her death,” he cleared his throat, “Louis, my grandson. It pains me greatly that we spent our lives not knowing each other. I have always valued the importance of family. Something I seemed to have failed to pass down to your mother. May God rest her soul. However, I do hope it is not too late to pass down that value to you, my child. I have decided to leave to you, my only living relative, this home. It was my favorite of all the places I lived during my lifetime. Your grandfather built this home for me with his own two hands. And I treasure it so very much. 

This home will be yours, Louis. You may do with it whatever you wish, on one condition. You may not sell this home. It is to be yours and yours alone apart from one other bit of information I shall disclose shortly. Part of my conditions though include that you live here for at least one month. M. Chevalier will see to it that that is followed through. If you cannot abide by my condition, you will have to forfeit your ownership of the home. One other condition...though I am sure you two have already met.

Harry. Harry is a darling! When he had no where to go and no one to take him in, I took it upon myself. I pride myself on family, Louis. And your mother turned her back on me. And she turned your back to me as well. Harry became all I had after George passed. And he became a good friend and confidant to me. He handled repairs as best he could and his companionship is something I will treasure always. I am also leaving him this home. You two are to split the ownership fifty-fifty.”

“I can’t believe this,” Louis muttered.

Mr. Chevalier continued, unfazed, “You two are to live together in this home for one month. If you cannot, then you will forfeit your ownership. Louis, darling, if you cannot live with Harry for one month in this home, then Harry shall be given entire ownership. Likewise, if Harry cannot live with you, you shall be given entire ownership.

You must be asking why I am doing this. Well, I shall explain. Louis, you have nothing keeping you in London. No job. You have had no responsibilities your entire life. I hope here you will find a job and learn the value of hard work and using your hands. You’ve never worked a day in your life. We must thank my daughter for that I suppose. But I want that to change. I want you to learn the value of work. And with your mother having passed, and no real father ever in your life, you have no one. And now that I am gone, Harry has no one as well. And that would be such a shame. You two will learn to work together, or will lose this house. You two will learn to be family to one another, or you will lose this house. 

I cannot stand to see people in this world who have no one looking after them, no one loving them. Harry, it is your job to care for and love Louis. And Louis, it is your job to care for and love Harry. I know you both can do this. Love is quite an easy emotion to feel once you allow yourself to be opened up to it. 

Louis, I am sorry we never got to know one another. But Harry will tell you about me when you’re ready. Even though your mother kept us apart, there wasn’t a day that I didn’t think of you or pray for you at night. I do love you, my grandson. And Harry, I do love you as well, my closest companion,” Mr. Chevalier cleared his throat, “This concludes the reading of the final will and testament of Madeline Beaumont.”

Louis felt his blood fizzle like soda in his veins. This was not happening. This was an absolute nightmare. He couldn’t sell the home? Then what good was it? But he sure as shit wasn’t going to just hand over what was rightfully his to Harry fucking Styles now, was he? He peeled his eyes to Harry who was sipping his tea and nodding slightly to what Mr. Chevalier had said. Louis felt his head spin. The kitchen suddenly felt very tiny and he just wanted to leave. He wanted to be on the first flight back to London, back to his loft with Zayn, and away from this whole bloody mess. But that would mean Harry getting the home. Harry getting what was rightfully Louis’ by blood. And that just wasn’t going to happen.

“So,” Mr. Chevalier coughed slightly, “You two are to live here for one month together before any changes can be made. After one month, Louis you may return back to London but will still be half owner of this estate. But Madeline made it very clear that you are to give this a go for one whole month here with Mr. Styles. If neither one of you can make this arrangement work, the estate will be placed in the care of the government. If Louis cannot make this work, the estate will be fully placed in the care of Harry. Is that understood?”

“This is a bloody nightmare,” Louis hissed, “Surely she wasn’t in her right mind!”

“She was as sharp as a tack, son,” Chevalier coughed again, “No doubt at all in her mind. And her mind was as clear as day. She knew what she was doing. And she knew that she was going to leave you both this house. And she confided that she also saw it as leaving you two - who would be without anyone - to each other.”

Louis scoffed, “I would hardly be without anyone. I have people.” Okay, so maybe just one person. Zayn. But that’s all Louis needed. He had never been one to need family.

“I must be going. I have another appointment this evening. I am to stop by once a week to see how things are going though. I’ll give you a ring before I pop in next week.”

Harry thanked him for coming and walked him to the door as Louis sulked at the kitchen table. His mother had been totally right about Madeline. She was a complete mental case. Louis pinched the bridge of his nose. This was a horrible dream. Just a horrible dream and in any moment he’d wake up and be in his brownstone loft with Zaynie. And they'd laugh about the whole mess over tea. 

“That went well,” Harry replied chipperly as he collected the cups and saucers from the table.

Louis let out a growl.


	2. Chapter 2

“Zaynie, this is awful. I have no idea what I’m going to do,” Louis cried. He was pacing around the guest room Harry had designated as his. His suitcase was tossed on the foot of the bed. He hadn’t even unpacked yet. Right away he knew he needed to call Zayn. Zayn would cheer him up, tell him what to do.

“So you’re stuck there for a month?” Zayn asked, “And if you leave you forfeit the property? So why not just leave? Come home. You don’t need some house in France anyway. Or the money if you were to sell it.”

“Which apparently I’m not allowed to do either,” Louis sighed, flopping back onto the mattress, “I just don’t know what to do. I could leave. But that’d mean Harry Styles gets this place. And I can’t let him do that, Zayn. My grandmother left this place to me. It’s rightfully mine by blood.”

“She actually said in the will she wanted you and Harry to care for each other?”

“Yeah,” Louis scoffed, “Don’t even get me started on that. I’m _not_ caring for him. And he’s not going to magically be my family. I have no idea what relationship he had with Madeline and quite frankly, I don’t want to know. I just want what’s rightfully mine.”

“So you’ll be there a whole month?” Zayn’s voice was weighted with sadness.

“Zaynie,” Louis perked up slightly, realizing it was his turn to play the role of comforting friend, “It won’t be so bad. Besides, you’ll love having a little vacation away from my dumb bass, huh? Chin up. Besides, if you really are going to miss me...I could maybe fly you out for a visit in a week or so. Just let me know your schedule.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course. You’re my bro. I’d miss you too much if I had to go a whole entire month without annoying you,” Louis couldn’t help but smile. Just talking to Zayn was like a breath of fresh air, “So how about I work on that. You get me your work schedule and I’ll fly you out here when you’re free. You can help this hell be not so completely miserable.”

Zayn laughed and they said goodbye. Louis hung up the call and set his cellphone on the nightstand. Glancing around the guest room, he figured he might as well unpack. It wasn’t like he’d be headed home any time soon. So he unzipped his luggage and began pulling out the clothes. He found the wardrobe stocked with quite a few hangers, and hung everything up neatly. He was an absolute mess about some things, but with his nice clothes, he always took care of them. However in his carryon bag, he had t-shirts, basketball shorts, underwear, and socks. Those he wasn’t so neat about. And they ended up in piles on the floor in a corner.

This was absolute hell. He didn’t understand why Madeline had done this. Maybe she was just crazy, like his mom had always said. It sure didn’t make any sense to Louis why she’d pretty much hold him hostage here with her “companion.” And she expected them to sort of adopt each other? Louis’ skin crawled. He didn’t need her thinking that he was some sort of neglected little kid to worry over. He had spent twenty-two years of his life on his own - with an exception to Zayn - and he’d managed just fine thus far. And he sure as hell didn’t need Harry Styles to be his “companion” or “confidant” or whatever Madeline Beaumont had thought. She didn’t know Louis. She’d never known Louis.

Now he felt himself getting angry. It always came over him like a rush of heat. His skin would burn and itch and his head would pound with pressure. Louis realized then that his nails were digging into his palms. He took a deep breath and headed downstairs to check out the rations in the fridge. Maybe he just needed a bite to eat. Or a drink. A drink was always good. But when he got to the kitchen, he found Harry washing dishes and nothing that interested him in the fridge.

“Where’s the nearest market?” Louis demanded, shutting the fridge door a little too roughly.

“Down the road past the creek,” Harry said without even looking up, “If you go a few miles past the creek, you’ll see a little shopping area. There’s a market there. It’s a little far to walk. I suppose I could give you my car. If you promise to bring it back.”

“What would I do?” Louis scoffed, “Just take off? Hardly. I’m in this for the long haul, Harold. This place is rightfully mine and I intend to never give up my ownership to you.”

“It’s Harry,” Harry sighed, his shoulders heaving slightly, “And fine then. My keys are on the hook by the door. The car is around back.”

Louis was a little taken back. Harry was trusting. Too trusting. He was willing to just give him his car without even knowing him? Louis could just take off. He wasn’t going to. But he could. And Harry didn’t know what Louis was and wasn’t going to do. Louis just shrugged and grabbed the keys off the hook. He found Harry’s car around back. A white convertible. It was cute. Really cute. A car Louis didn’t mind having to drive.

Okay. So Harry didn’t have shit taste in cars. So what? Louis turned the key into the ignition and headed down the road following Harry’s instructions. It was overcast that afternoon. The sky was a dingy gray. And everything around him was fields and pastures. Louis sighed. This wasn’t his idea of a vacation. He needed Zaynie. He needed to be home. He fiddled with the radio a bit. Which of course didn’t work. And the only CD Harry Styles had was some sort of French Smooth Jazz that made Louis want to rip his ears from his head.

He found the market without much hassle. And he purchased for himself several baguettes, an assortment of meats and various cheeses, some pastries, and several bottles of expensive champagne. If he was going to be stuck in France, he might as well try to make the best of it, right? He gathered his shopping bags and stowed them in the trunk of Harry’s car. Then he climbed into the driver’s seat and continued home. His mouth watering at the thought of bread and cheese. Honestly, he couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten. He’d been so distracted with being angry at Madeline and Harry Styles that he’d forgotten his stomach.

When he got back home - might as well call it that for the next few weeks - Louis carried the grocery bags inside. Once in the kitchen, he paused. Harry was sitting at the kitchen table, crying into his hands. A partially empty bottle of cheap, cheap, cheap wine next to him. Louis scoffed. This was not what he’d signed on for. None of this was. But especially _not_ comforting Harry Styles.

Louis was never good at that sort of thing. Normally if people were upset around him, he’d just become impatient with them. Making the situation worse, of course. Louis set the bags on the counter and watched as Harry swiped at his cheeks with his fingers, as if trying to somehow hide the fact he was crying. But it was too late. His face - nose, eyes, cheeks - were red and puffy. And his curls were matted against his neck where the tears had rolled but he’d been too lazy to wipe away.

Louis sighed. He wasn’t a complete arsehole. Harry was upset. And Louis really didn’t like seeing people upset. He held his tongue from saying anything harsh. Instead, he just plucked up the wine bottle from the table and gave it a small sniff. He winced at the scent.

“Okay, no,” Louis said firmly, “If you want to get sloshed, do it right,” Louis set the bottle on the counter and retrieved one of the bottles of champagne he’d just purchased. Harry looked at the bottle skeptically.

“That’s...that’s too much,” he shook his head, “Costs too much.”

“Shut up. I paid for it. And it didn’t cost too much,” Louis uncorked the bottle and set it down in front of Harry, “Drink it.”

Harry looked up, half expecting Louis to fetch him a glass. Which of course Louis wasn’t going to do. So Harry just lifted the bottle to his lips and took a swig. Louis almost looked delighted. He had to cough to regain his composure. Harry had wrapped his lips completely over the mouth of the bottle. And his Adam’s apple rose up and down as he drank. And Louis suddenly felt really self-aware. He coughed again and continued to put away his groceries.

“Thank you,” Harry said in a small little voice.

Louis just shrugged, “Don’t do something if you aren’t going to do it right, Harold.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m sitting here crying and drinking?” Harry asked, his voice weighted with embarrassment.

“I could,” Louis shrugged again, cutting slices of bread, “But I don’t really care. If you want to talk about it, I’ll be here eating my lunch. If not, I’ll still be here eating my lunch.” Louis set some slices of cheese on top of the slices of bread, “You want?”

“No thanks,” Harry shook his head, taking another drink, “Could I maybe...talk to you?”

“No guarantee I’ll pay much attention,” Louis sat down with his plate of cheese and bread across from Harry, “But go ahead. If it’ll make you feel better.”

“I know you probably think there was something weird going on between your grandmother and me. And there really wasn’t, Louis. I was traveling and I fell in love with this town. But I had no where to stay. And she was so, so lonely. So she offered to take me in. I did small jobs for her around here. Got a job at a bakery not far into town. We kept each other company. She was all I had and I was all she had. And now she’s gone. I came home from work to find her in her bed. And I knew. I knew for weeks it’d be any day now. But when it actually happened...I was a mess.”

Louis took a tiny bite of bread, nodding. Okay. So maybe Harry really did care for his grandmother. Still didn’t mean he liked the fact he was intruding on Louis’ property.

“Okay,” Louis said slowly, “So you two were close?”

“Very. I was young when I first came here a few years ago. Only sixteen. From England. My parents died when I was a child. I was a ward of the state until I got to be sixteen. Then I had no where else to go. So I just packed up and started traveling. And then I met Madeline. And she took me in as though she was desperate for a…” Harry’s eyes dropped to his hands on the table, “...grandson.”

“She had one,” Louis grumbled, taking another bite, “One she never showed much interest in.”

“Oh but she did,” Harry insisted, “She talked about you so often. She said your name was Louis and that you lived in London. And that she hated her daughter for keeping you from her. She wanted to reach out to you so many times. She just never knew how.”

“Well she should have tried harder,” Louis grabbed the bottle and took a swig himself, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “Not that I’d want to meet her anyway. She never did me any good.”

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. After a pause, he did say, “I guess some days it hits me harder than others. That I really genuinely miss her. And that now I really am alone.”

“Alone isn’t so bad,” Louis shrugged, and it wasn’t, “Alone means no one can hurt you.”

“Alone means no one can love you either,” Harry sighed. He leaned back a little in his chair, the alcohol finally hitting into him, “And I have always desperately needed someone to love. I don’t care much about being loved myself. I don’t need someone to love me. But I do need someone to love.”

“Okay then,” Louis stood from the table, taking his plate to the sink and taking away the bottle of champagne as well.

Harry now had his feet up on the table and was running one of his massive hands through his curls. Louis stiffened and then put the champagne in the fridge. Louis leaned against the fridge for a moment, just taking in Harry Styles. He was massive. So tall that he towered over everything. But he was so lean. And ripped. Louis thought back to the six pack he’d seen earlier. And those green eyes and those damn dimples that Louis knew would probably get him in trouble at some point. Harry Styles was breath-taking. He certainly wasn’t the typical “attractive guy” Louis would find in bars or clubs. Harry Styles looked like he stepped out of some classical work of art. Louis coughed again. He sure as shit couldn’t think things like that. Not with having to live here for the next month and definitely not with Harry drunk off his ass practically. And besides, Louis really needed to stop assuming every guy he was attracted to would be into him. The whole world wasn’t gay. And Louis had a tendency to forget that at times when he felt strongly about someone. Not that he was feeling strongly about Harry…

He wanted to smack himself. He glanced longingly at the fridge, wondering if he’d put away the champagne too soon.

“Tell me about you,” Harry said breathlessly, “Want to know about you.”

“Not much to tell,” Louis sat back down at the table. Not really wanting to get into his whole history with Harry, “Uh...my mom was a single mom. She passed away a few years ago. I have a massive trust fund that takes care of me. I live in London with my best friend Zayn. Inherited this house, and apparently you, and here we are.”

“Here we are,” Harry sighed wistfully. Louis shook his head and thought - _lightweight._

“Tell me about Zayn,” Harry insisted.

“Well, he’s been my best friend since we were kids. And we share a loft together. He might come visit in the next week or so. I’ll fly him out here when he’s free. A whole month without him would be hard.”

“You sound so close.”

“We are,” Louis nodded curtly. Zayn was the only family he’d ever needed. The only family that’d ever wanted him.

“I like that champange,” Harry giggled behind his hand.

“Looks like you did,” Louis smirked. This was a disaster. Harry Styles was making it incredibly difficult to hate him if he was going to be so fucking cute like that.

Louis stood up from the table and decided to rinse his dishes. He needed to do something other than just watch Harry being drunkenly adorable. And he needed to keep his distance. There was no way he could be attracted to Harry. Harry was a thorn in his side and a pebble in his shoe. And he most certainly wasn’t attractive. Not at all!

“It’s the middle of the afternoon!”

“Yup. And you’re hammered.”

“This is bad.”

“Go to bed.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Harry nodded, struggling to stand up from the table. Louis sighed dramatically and went over to help steady him. “Lou...has anyone ever told you that you have pretty eyes?” Louis was taken back.

He helped Harry stand properly and then cleared his throat, “Um...not really. No.”

“Well, you do. Bluey greeney blue. Very pretty.”

Louis rolled his eyes and helped Harry over to the couch - because stairs probably weren’t going to be an option. He grabbed an afghan off the back of the couch and tossed it over Harry. He wasn’t exactly trying to be helpful here. He was just doing the decent thing, right?

“Get some rest,” Louis said gruffly before heading upstairs.

“Pretty eyes,” Harry mumbled.

Louis shook his head. He was not going to let himself open up that can of worms. He just needed to get through the month. Then he could keep his partial ownership of this place. Then he could move back to London. Then he could maybe try to forget all about Harry Styles. Harry Styles who was now apparently his roommate and who was very drunk and passed out on the couch. Harry Styles who also had said Louis had pretty eyes.

Once in his bedroom, Louis walked over to the mirror by the wardrobe. He peered closely at his reflection and muttered, “Bluey greeny blue.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I need to update my other stories. I just feel so stuck. But if you do read my others, just know i'll get around to it soon. I'm trying you guys. I really am. It's just hard.
> 
> Also, in this chapter, there are Grey's Anatomy Spoilers. So if you haven't seen all the episodes of Grey's I suggest not reading. I mean, this event occurred several seasons ago and it's not exactly a secret. But still, just want to give you fair warning. 
> 
> Thank you for reading :)

It had been one week, and Louis was already bored out of his mind. He spent his days padding around the house, eating snacks, and watching movies on his laptop. It wasn't that he minded downtime. Louis loved being lazy. But he missed Zayn more than anything and he missed going out and drinking and having fun. Missed having things to do. Here, the only thing he really had to do was watch the dumb veggies in Harry's garden grow. So much fun that was. It also meant he was alone with with just Harry, and his thoughts about Harry. And that was trouble with a capital T. Especially since he was finding himself more and more drawn to the boy who was supposed to be a thorn in his side.

On his eighth day there, he was sprawled out on the couch eating from a bag of crisps when Harry walked in from his shift at the bakery. Louis glanced up. Harry always smelled of vanilla whenever he'd come home from work. Not that Louis had payed attention to that little fact. Nope. Not at all.

He hung his coat on the rack and cleared his throat. Normally he'd just go into the kitchen to fix himself some tea. But today he was just standing there. Standing there and staring at Louis. Louis' eyes flicked to Harry.

"What?" He asked, indignantly. 

“You should get a job," Harry said out of nowhere. 

“What?” Louis cackled, “You’re joking, right?”

“You’ve never worked a day in your life,” Harry sighed, and Louis’ eyes were narrowing into tight little slits, “And you’re bored as hell here. I’m just saying, maybe it’d do you some good to find some work. Keep you busy, you know. I can...I can ask around in town this week while I’m there. See if anyone’s hiring.”

Louis frowned. Okay. So maybe work wouldn’t be so bad. Harry was right. He was bored. And work would fill in the hours. And maybe it'd give him some reason to get his thoughts off of Harry Styles. It would be a good distraction. Fine. Louis just nodded and Harry beamed, seemingly pleased with himself. Louis turned his attention back to the bag of crisps in his lap. Harry just shook his head and headed into the kitchen.

They’d spent the past week walking around each other. It wasn’t flat out avoidance. It wasn’t like they were angry with each other. They just didn’t want the other to get in the way. Louis needed Harry to keep his distance. He needed to just get through these next weeks with as little disruption as possible. It was bad enough Louis was completely attracted to the boy with brown curls and emerald eyes and stupid dimples. He just needed to stay away. Keep to himself distant and behave. Which was getting harder and harder with each passing day.

Louis had called Zayn almost every night to talk with him about his frustrations. And Zayn would just laugh and tell Louis' that it didn't sound like he actually hated Harry Styles, just the opposite in fact. And Louis would protest, telling Zayn about the recent things Harry'd done that'd gotten on his nerves - things like playing music way too loudly and way too early in the morning. And dancing in the kitchen whenever he'd prepare dinner. Shaking his hips while fucking slicing carrots. All these things were getting on Louis' last and final nerve. 

That night, Louis left his phone on the arm of the couch while he went to shower. He'd been playing Candy Crush and Harry had been humming something in the kitchen. Just annoying enough to drive Louis upstairs. He'd completely forgotten to take his cellphone with him though. And when he'd left his spot on the couch, Harry reclaimed it.

Harry was watching his DVD collection of Grey’s Anatomy when the phone next to him buzzed. He hadn’t even noticed it really. And normally he’d just let it ring. It was rude, after all, to answer another person's phone - right? But he saw the name on the caller ID as Zayn and his heart stopped slightly. Louis’ best friend. The one Louis had invited for a visit. Harry bit at his bottom lip. Would it be weird to answer? Of course it would be. It’d be fucking creepy. But he wanted to get to know Louis’ best friend - or at least some aspect of Louis’ life. He just wanted a little window into the world Louis'd left behind, and seemed to miss so much. So Harry answered.

“Ello?”

“Uh...hi? Who is this?”

“Harry. Louis’ in the shower right now.”

“Ah,” Harry could almost hear Zayn nod. He’d messed up. He knew he did. He was intruding on a part of Louis’ life Louis clearly wanted him to not be a part of. And now things were going to be weird. And Zayn would think he was a bloody creeper and everything was a disaster. Why had he even thought answering Zayn's call would be a smart idea? Harry wanted to melt into the couch cushions. 

But then Zayn said, “So, Harry. How are you?”

And Harry almost froze. It was such a natural question. As if he and Zayn were already friends. And Harry cleared his throat before saying, “Good, good. Just settling in for the night. Tea and Grey’s Anatomy. How about you?”

“You like Grey’s?” Zayn’s voice raised slightly, “Ohmygosh! My too! I always tell Louis he’s the Meredith to my Christina. He hates that though. Says why does he have to be Meredith and I get to be Christina. Like I’d be anyone else but!”

Harry laughs and it’s so incredibly natural how quickly he can just talk with Zayn - no wonder Louis liked him so much. “Hey guess what,” he says, grinning.

“What?”

“I think I may be getting your boy a job this week.”

“What!” Zayn cackles into the phone, “No way! Louis’ never worked a day in his life. Doesn’t even know how to! How on earth are you going to get him to find a job?”

“He’s bored as hell around here anyway,” Harry tucked his legs underneath him, “So I just suggested I search around in town.”

“Right. You work at a bakery, right?”

And Harry frowns slightly because that means Louis’ definitely told Zayn things about him, “Yeah. I love it. Though I can’t see it being a good fit for Louis though.”

“Oh definitely not,” Zayn said in complete seriousness, “He’d eat you out of all your sweets.”

“Has already practically eaten me out of house and home!”

“Of course,” Zayn giggled, “You know, I’m just going to say it. I like you, Harry. You seem sweet. Funny. I was a little worried about my boy having to stay in a strange country with a strange man in his home. But I don’t think you’re going to like...slash his throat in his sleep or take advantage of him.”

“I’d hope not,” Harry grinned, “Though sometimes strangling him sounds like a good plan. Is he always so annoying though? I swear. He treats me like I have some sort of disease!”

“That’s just because Louis doesn’t like having his plans disrupted. You were _not_ exactly part of his plan in inheriting his grandma’s home. But between you and me, I’m glad you were friends with Madeline. Lou’s family...it’s been lacking. My folks and I sort of had to adopt him. It’ll do him some good to hear about his grandma and to have you in his life.”

“She kind of left us to each other in her will. Which sounds totally strange saying that out loud. We were left to each other.”

“That is a bit weird,” Zayn agreed, “but Louis needs all the people he can get. Be good to him.”

Zayn didn’t elaborate and Harry didn’t ask. Instead he just said, “Oh my gosh. No! This is the episode where George dies!”

“What?” Zayn shrieked on the other end of the call, “No! The 007 one?”

“The very one,” Harry bit at his lip madly, “Great. Now I’m going to cry.”

“Hold up. Hold up. Can you pause it?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, pause it and I’ll bring up that episode on my Netflix. Okay, go back to the start. Yeah? Okay. Let’s watch it together. No one should have to watch that alone.”

“Thank you so much, Zayn!”

“Of course.”

A few moments passed and Harry was shouting into the phone, “007 Meredith! 007! She has to know what it means!”

“What the hell?”

Harry’s head shot up to see Louis’ coming down the steps. His brows were furrowed and as he got closer he pointed an accusing finger, “Is that my phone?”

“Yes,” Harry blushed. Zayn had been totally fine with him answering the call. But Harry wasn't stupid. He wasn't going to try to hope Louis' would be too. 

“Who the fuck are you talking to on my phone?” Louis demanded.

“Is that Lou?” Zayn asked, “Tell him I said hi.”

“Zayn says hi,” Harry winced. Knowing that he was in deep, deep shit. Louis’ eyes narrowed into little slits again and he held out his hand. Harry winced again and handed over the phone. Louis lifted it to his ear and said -

“Zaynie, love, sweetheart, light of my life...what the fuck are you doing?” Harry twisted uncomfortably at the deceptively sweet sound of Louis' voice. 

“Watching Grey’s Anatomy with your new roomie?” Zayn offered sweetly.

Louis titled his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was not happening. This was so, _so_ not happening. Zayn was not bonding with Harry and Harry most certainly was _not_ bonding with Zayn. Louis’ head snapped to Harry who had now paused the episode and was biting his knuckle sheepishly staring at Louis. Louis wanted to slap his hand out of his mouth because well, shit that was hot. He tried to gather his composure.

“Why are you watching Grey’s Anatomy with Harry?”

“Because...he didn’t want to watch George die alone?”

“Oh my god - wait, did you call him?”

“I called you. He answered. I like him, Lou. He’s sweet. And from the sound of it, cute just like you said. You should get with that.”

“Oh my god, this is not happening right now,” Louis let out an exasperated sigh. He pointed a threatening finger at Harry and mouthed, 'Not finished with you' before storming upstairs to continue this talk in private. Out of earshot, he continued, “One, Harry is _not_ cute. And two, I am _not_ going to ‘get with that’ now or ever. Not happening, Zaynie.”

“Well I don’t know why not. He’s sweet. You could use sweet. Beats your usual douchebag type you tend to go for."

Louis collapsed onto the bed. He was suddenly starting to regret confiding his secret “thing” - whatever it was - for Harry a few days ago. It’d happened not long after Harry had drunkenly complemented his eyes. Louis started to notice Harry more and more. Little things like how his eyes would crinkle when he’d laugh. Or how when he’d work in the garden and raise his wrist to wipe the sweat from his brow, his shirt would rise up and Louis’ could see the bare skin of his hips - and he had fucking fern leaves tattooed there. Fern leaves! Louis had even told Zayn that if this were any other situation, he’d have fucked Harry by now until he could no longer walk properly. But this was not any other situation. And Louis was most certainly _not_ going to do that.

Instead, Louis had settled on the idea of just staying away from Harry - avoiding him and trying to completely repress any feelings or sensations Harry made him feel. Which was very difficult. And Zayn right now was not making it any easier.

“He’s _not_ sweet,” Louis snapped, “He’s annoying. This is my home and he’s basically a squatter, only I can’t kick him out. I’m stuck with him. And I’m not going to make things messy by doing anything I know I’ll regret. Besides, he’s annoying. Like, _sooo_ annoying. He prances around like he owns the world. And he's always singing or humming. And he laughs at way too much. And he just is too... _everything_. Also, he wants me to get a job.”

“He mentioned that.”

“You two talked about me?” Louis felt utterly betrayed.

“Nothing bad. Just about how he might get you a job. I told him not to set you up at the bakery because you’d just eat all the sweets.”

“You’re a menace,” Louis shook his head, “A beautiful, perfectly-quiffed menace. And I hate you.”

“You do not.”

“Do too. Hate you so much right now that I’m going to murder you when you get here in a week and a half. Murder you and bury you in stupid Harry Styles’ stupid vegetable garden!”

“That’s not creepy or anything.”

They went back and forth for awhile before finally exchanging “I love you’s.” Louis hung up the call and headed back downstairs. Harry was still watching his episode. He had his knees hugged close to him, and his chin was resting on top of him. Louis rolled his eyes. Why did Harry Styles have to look so damn cute all the time? Like was there ever a moment in the day where Harry didn’t look either sexy, etherial, or precious? It made Louis’ blood boil, and only made him hate him more.

“You,” Louis sat down on the edge of the coffee table, facing Harry and blocking the television screen, “Are never to touch my things or be buddy-buddy with my friends ever again.”

“Lou...I’m sorry! I didn’t even think. I just...I wanted to get to know him for some reason. See into that part of your life…”

“I don’t want you in that part of my life,” Louis sighed, and coolly swept a strand of hair from his eyes, “Or in any part of my life for that matter, darling. I want you to stay as far away from me, and as far away from my friends, as possible. You are not to try to bond with them. Or talk to them. Or touch my phone or answer my calls ever again.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry’s head hung and he did look properly mortified with himself.

Louis felt a little bad. He really did. Harry looked like such a kicked puppy at the moment. And Louis was not one to go about kicking puppies. He rolled his eyes dramatically and sighed as though making a whole show of doing so. Finally he rested his hand on Harry’s shin and said firmly -

“If you don’t want to watch your favorite character get killed off by yourself, either don’t watch the episode or come get me. Don’t try to be besties with Zayn. Because I can assure you, darling, that position is already secured.”

Harry smiled a small, very small, smile. And Louis had to bite back his own. Harry’s smile was like a gift. And he loved being the one to make Harry smile. He pushed himself up off the coffee table and said -

“I’m going to turn in for the night.”

“Lou?”

“Hmm?” Louis turned back around. Not sure when he’d let Harry start calling him the nickname. Probably about the same time Harry had stopped protesting to being called ‘Harold.’

“Tomorrow I’m meeting my friend Niall for drinks at the pub. You...you can come too if you’d like. I know you said to stay away from you. Not trying to cross any lines here - and you certainly don’t have to come if you don’t want to. You can say no. But...I know you miss Zayn a lot. And it must be hard on you to be here by yourself. So please, if you want to, come with Niall and me tomorrow night.”

Louis sucked his lips into his teeth to try to hide the smile that was threatening to break across his face. He regained some composure and coolly said, “I’ll think about it, Harold. No promises.”


End file.
